


Somewhere, Somewhen II/The Twilight Zone II: Walk A Mile...

by BradyGirl_12



Series: Somewhere, Somewhen [2]
Category: Public Enemies (2009), Twilight Zone
Genre: Challenge Response, Challenges, Community: Guns_Fedoras Public Enemies Challenges, Drama, Established Relationship, Fortune Telling, Halloween, Holidays, M/M, Male Slash, Mystery, Romance, Series, Slash, Twilight Zone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1677956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BradyGirl_12/pseuds/BradyGirl_12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fortuneteller predicts an unusual twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cotton Candy 'N' Lemon Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Original LJ Date Of Completion: September 25, 2011  
> Original LJ Date Of Posting: October 9, 2011  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.  
> Original LJ Word Count: 1674  
> Feedback welcome and appreciated.  
> Author’s Notes: Written for my [2011 Guns_Fedoras Public Enemies Fic/Art Halloween Challenge](http://guns-fedoras.livejournal.com/85563.html). Option 1: _(Elements of Halloween used set in or around Halloween: ( **The Twilight Zone** , Candles, Tarot Cards, Crystals, Crystal Ball, Jack O’Lanterns/Pumpkins, Black-And-Orange, Witches, Ghosts (Paper Cut-Outs)._  
> The entire series can be found [here.](http://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/31948.html)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny gets his fortune told at a carnival.

  


  
_The cards foretold_   
_About a man bold,_   
_He was sold_   
_On his fortune gold._   


  


**Selina Gold**  
 **"Tarot Whispers"**  
 **1929 C.E.**

_“You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead — your next stop, the Twilight Zone.”_

_“Observe, a man of supreme self-confidence: bank robber John Dillinger, known as Public Enemy No. 1. He relishes that designation, comfortable in his own skin, confident of his place in life. Sometimes impatient with his G-Man lover, Melvin Purvis, and his hesitation to let loose, he will soon find out what it’s like to walk a mile in another man’s shoes…courtesy of the Twilight Zone.”_

*Cue Twilight Zone music*

& & & & & &

“C’mon, sugar, don’t be so tight.”

Johnny squeezed Mel’s hand, releasing it as they walked down the midway of the Chicago World’s Fair carnival, attached to the main Fair. He loved anything to do with the Fair and couldn’t get enough of it. The air was chilly as befit an October night.

Revelers flowed all around them, eager to grab a hot dog or cotton candy or to try their hand at the shooting gallery or ring toss. Bright lights lit up the midway and the rides, the giant Ferris wheel turning slowly as the smell of fried dough and sausages drifted from the food vendors’ booths. The spirit of the season (Halloween was right around the corner) was in the air.

Johnny was wearing his wire-rimmed glasses, straw boater, and casual outfit of light-blue pants and jacket over a white shirt. Mel was dressed in a dark-blue suit that made him look entirely too scrumptious, in Johnny’s not-so-humble opinion. He did not want to attract attention, but he was feeling daring tonight.

“Johnny, you have to be careful.”

“I am, darlin’. C’mon, Mel, lighten up. You’re entirely too tense.”

“I just don’t want to see you end up in a jail cell.”

“Aww, thanks, Sunshine, but you know I’ll just get out of it.”

Mel smiled at Johnny’s smirk. “I suppose you would.”

Johnny was glad that Mel was getting into the spirit of their little adventure. He had been a little put out by Mel’s reluctant to fully relax, but now he seemed to be unwinding. 

“I want you as light ‘n’ fluffy as cotton candy, sugar,” he winked, Mel blushing prettily.

“I thought you would prefer sizzling sausages.”

Johnny laughed. “Oh, Mel, I love you.” He was pleased to see Mel’s smile of happiness. 

“Hey, want your fortune told?” Johnny asked as they approached a black-and-yellow-striped tent that glittered under the lights. The sign outside proclaimed, _Fortunes Told By Madame Zora._

“Fortune-telling? _Really_ , Johnny.”

Johnny laughed. “C’mon, sugar.”

Mel rolled his eyes. “All right, but I believe it is traditional to be alone when your fortune’s told.”

“Okay, I’ll go first.”

“Be my guest.”

Johnny laughed as he entered the tent, immediately hit by a subtle sweet/smoky smell, and he adjusted his eyes to the dimness. 

The tent walls were adorned with swords and a coat of arms. A hand-carved wooden walking stick was propped up in one corner.

On the table were a variety of objects: yellow candles in gold-painted candlesticks, a deck of cards, a collection of different-colored crystals, and a crystal ball set on a pewter dragon base, ruby eyes winking in the flicker of candlelight. A small Jack O’Lantern glowed eerily on the table, its light flickering on the walls.

Johnny put his hand on the back of the chair set in front of the table. He wondered if the smell was from incense.

The back of the tent opened, and Johnny realized that he was looking at a curtain that concealed a back area of the tent. Bracelets and necklaces jangled as the fortuneteller appeared, dressed in a squash-colored peasant blouse and purple skirt. Her jewelry was gold and silver and sparkled with a rainbow of jewels. Long, blond hair was capped by a purple silk bandanna decorated with gold stars and half-moons, gold hoop earrings swinging as she walked forward.

“Be seated.”

Johnny did as requested, genuinely curious. He had never had his fortune told before.

“So,” said Madame Zora, picking up the deck of cards, “What do you wish to know, my friend?” Her blue eyes were oddly piercing, enhancing a pretty face.

“Oh, nothin’ in particular. My love life’s good,” he said with a smirk.

“Good. Let’s see what the cards have to say.”

Johnny noticed that the cards were not ordinary playing cards. They were decorated with fantastical artwork, bright though the deck itself was well-worn.

Zora deftly laid them out after a quick shuffle. She gazed intently at the cards, then looked up at her client.

“I see freedom in your future. The world is yours to take, but there will be a decision to make.” She tapped a card. “A crossroads is coming.”

“When?”

“Far in the future.”

Johnny felt relieved. He was not interested in making any life-changing decisions right now.

“Ah.” Zora set more cards down. “You will walk in another man’s shoes.”

Johnny smirked. “Dress shoes, I hope.’

“That’ll be up to you.” She put down another card. “You are a lucky man in life.”

He considered his nine years in prison, but he had made good friends and learned his trade as a bank robber there, so that might be considered lucky. And he was certainly lucky in love!

Zora picked up the cards. “I hope you will learn something when you walk that mile.”

“As long as it’s not the final mile.”

She smirked. “It might be difficult. We never truly know another’s life, do we?”

Johnny was amused as he paid, then left the tent. “Your turn.”

“Did she predict you’ll meet someone tall, dark, and handsome?” Mel drawled.

“Already met ‘im.”

Mel smiled as he disappeared into the tent.

Johnny lit a cigarette as he waited, watching the people as they laughed and enjoyed themselves. He nodded to a pretty young girl who giggled, but made sure not to meet too many people’s eyes. He didn’t need to be recognized. 

He thought of Zora’s prediction. All nonsense, of course, but he thought about it. It would be a good look into a man’s psyche to walk in his shoes, but that was just a metaphor.

_Wouldn’t Mel like my fancy talk?_

Whistling, he smoked his Lucky Strike until Mel came out. He dropped the cigarette and ground it out.

“So, you gonna be President of the United States?”

Mel laughed. “Thank God, no. That is a terrible job, when you think about it. I have enough trouble as SAC of the Chicago field office.”

Johnny leaned over and whispered, “I like your sac.”

Mel blushed and laughed and slapped Johnny’s shoulder. “You’re awful, suh,” he said, though his eyes were twinkling.

Johnny would have kissed him if they were not out in public. Instead he gave Mel’s hand a quick squeeze and said, “C’mon, I’ll treat you to a lemon ice.”

As they enjoyed the cool treat, Johnny said, “It sure smelled nice inside that tent. A smoky but sweet sort of smell.”

“It was patchouli.”

“Pa-what?”

“Patchouli.” Mel took a bite of the ice, its coolness sliding down his throat. He looked positively decadent, Johnny thought. “It’s close to the incense that they use in Catholic churches, but not quite.”

“Ah. Well, ya learn somethin’ new everyday.” Johnny enjoyed the sharp tang of the lemon ice on his tongue.

They enjoyed the rest of the evening and reluctantly parted when the left the carnival grounds, Johnny impulsively saying, “Come away with me.”

“I wish I could.” Mel’s voice was filled with regret.

“Just do it,” Johnny urged, the romance of the evening overwhelming him. Mel looked beautiful in the soft glow cast by the streetlight.

“I’m sorry, Johnny, I can’t.”

Frustrated, Johnny was going to protest further but saw how upset his lover was becoming. Changing tactics, he smiled. “Don’t worry, Sunshine, it’ll all work out. Madame Zora said I was a lucky man, and she didn’t even know you were my man.” He winked.

Mel laughed and squeezed Johnny’s hand. “Call me.”

”I will.”

Johnny suddenly dragged Mel into the alley and kissed him, Mel returning the kiss. Satisfied, they parted, Johnny whistling jauntily as he caught the streetcar home.

His room in the house was a modest one with a dresser, bed and nightstand made of maplewood, the ceiling painted a light-blue to match the walls. As he got ready for bed, he wondered why Mel rarely let himself go. Well, he would work on getting his sweet Southern honey to loosen up.

He climbed into bed, ready for a good night’s sleep.

& & & & & &

When Johnny awoke, he smelled bacon and eggs cooking. Red was probably the cook, the best of the gang. He opened his eyes, startled as he saw a white ceiling.

_I must be still half-asleep._

Blinking, he realized that the ceiling _was_ white. Looking around, he noticed that the bed was dark cherrywood and a four-poster with matching dresser and nightstand, but there were paintings of country landscapes on the walls painted light yellow and a rocking chair in the corner.

_What is going on here?_

The door opened and before he could demand an explanation of Red or Homer, was shocked to see a nattily-attired Negro smiling at him.

“I see you’re up, Mr. Dillinger. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Uh, thank you…President?”

The butler nodded. “You’re welcome, sir. While you shower, I’ll lay out those clothes you asked me to iron.”

“Umm, okay.”

Johnny realized that he was wearing light-blue silk pajamas instead of his green cotton pajama bottoms and undershirt. He shuffled off to the bathroom with a robe and clean underwear, walking down the hall of an elegant townhouse instead of the modest house that he was sharing with his gang.

 _What’s happening?_ he thought in shock.


	2. Topsy-Turvy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny wakes up in a bizarre new world.

  


  
_"When the world turns_   
_Upside down,_   
_I need you."_   


**Ben Crosby**   
**"When The World**   
**Turns Upside Down"**   
**Decca Records**   
**1931 C.E.**

Johnny managed to shower, shave, and dress, going out to the cheerful, yellow-painted kitchen, accented by a small pumpkin on the counter. He drank his orange juice and ate the bacon and eggs, glad that President was a good cook. _Mel had mentioned that he was._ He was confused that President did not seem perplexed by Johnny in Mel’s place.

_I must still be dreaming._

“I took the liberty of packing your snack, sir.”

“Oh, um, thank you.”

President handed him a brown paper bag and his briefcase after he had brushed his teeth and put on his greatcoat and fedora, both black, and fitting him perfectly, just like his suit. The clothes were cut with quiet elegance unlike the flashier styles that Johnny favored. He went out to the garage and saw the gleaming Pierce Arrow, Mel’s pride-and-joy.

_Why I am playing this charade? I should take Mel’s car and take off._

But when he got in the car he found himself driving downtown, parking on the street outside the Bankers Building, and riding the elevator to the 19th floor.

_Well, this oughtta be good._

He got off the elevator and walked to the door with the frosted glass bearing the letters of its name.

_What? The **Purvis Squad?**_

A bemused Johnny entered the squadroom, agents already busy at their desk. A pretty brunette looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Dillinger.” A Jack O’Lantern was perched on the corner of her desk, and she wore an orange-and-black dress, and orange barrette in her hair.

“Good morning, uh, Doris.”

He had remembered Mel mentioning President, and now was meeting the woman he had conversed with over the phone several times. She had happily served as liaison between him and Mel when necessary.

Johnny hesitated, then headed for an office that he figured must be Mel’s. He went inside and saw a modest office with an oak desk, padded chair, a steel filing cabinet, and a coatrack. He hung up his coat and hat and placed the bag on the desk, which held a pencil cup filled with pens and pencils, a stack of file folders, a gold-framed picture, and a small pumpkin. 

_The picture must be Mel’s relatives._

Johnny sat down and stared at the photograph. He did not understand why this was happening. Why was he sitting at Mel’s desk wearing Mel’s clothes while staring at a picture of Mel’s parents? He had seen a similar picture in his lover’s wallet. His head was swimming.

_I’m living Mel’s life but am still using my name. What the hell is going on?_

The phone rang and Johnny automatically picked it up while still trying to puzzle out his situation.

_“Mr. Dillinger, your father’s calling.”_

“Put him through, Doris,” Johnny said before he realized what he was saying.

_Too late!_

The sound of a cultured voice came over the wire, oddly lacking a South Carolina accent but still aristocratic.

_“John, you haven’t called.”_

“Sorry, Dad, I’ve been so busy…”

_“Chasing scum like Purvis and Nelson? You should be back home, practicing law here or being a gentleman farmer.”_

The accent sounds Indianan, so that must be one heckuva farm if dear ol’ Dad says I can be a gentleman farmer.

“Well, Dad, I might someday, but I’m needed here.”

_“Seems like any buffoon can mess up and let Purvis get away.”_

Johnny was stung for Mel. “Well, Dad, someone’s got to do it.”

_“Yes, but why does it have to be **you?** You have family obligations, John. It’s time you lived up to them.”_

Feeling a headache coming on, Johnny said, “Listen, Dad, I’ve got work to do.”

_“Don’t brush me off, boy. You listen to what I have to say.”_

Out of respect for Mel’s father, Johnny kept the earpiece propped between his shoulder and ear, but his attention was on the contents of the top file folder from the stack on Mel’s desk.

A photograph of Public Enemy No. 1, Melvin Purvis, looked back at him with Johnny’s trademark smirk. He was instantly drawn to the man in the photograph, noticing the slicked-back hair, the expensive white shirt and the mesmerizing eyes: dark-brown with glints of gold, that sensuous mouth curved into the smirk that Johnny knew well that people took note of. This was a man of daring and dash, the kind that Mel could be if he was not weighted down by responsibilities. 

_“Did you hear me, boy?”_

“Sorry, Dad, my secretary just entered the room.” Which was the truth as Doris entered with a smile, carrying a stack of papers. “Gotta go. Talk to ya later.” Johnny hung up with a sigh of relief.

“Tough call?” Doris asked sympathetically.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He frowned at the papers. “What’s all this?”

“Paperwork, my dear. Reams of it, since we’re working under the No. 1 bureaucrat in Washington. His soul delights in it.” She looked over her shoulder as if half-expecting someone to be listening.

“Ah, yes. Bureaucracy.” How does Mel stand it?

“Mr. Hoover has very strict rules, and if anyone violates them, you’ll answer to him.”

“I’ll answer to him?”

“You’re the boss.” She tapped the stack. “Sign on the bottom line.”

Johnny grimaced. Being the boss of his gang was fine, but all these nit-picky rules were not.

Doris left the office to return to her desk. Johnny looked at the stack of papers and shook his head, wishing that he could plan a new bank job instead.

The phone rang again and he picked up the handset. “Yes?”

_“Director Hoover, sir.”_

Johnny’s fingers tightened around the handset. “Patch him through.” This could be interesting.

_“Agent Dillinger?”_

“Yes, Director?”

_“How are you this fine day?”_

“Just fine, Director.”

 _“Now why so formal, John?”_ Hoover’s voice oozed over the phone. _“It’s Jayee.”_

Johnny’s stomach turned over but he answered smoothly, “Okay, Jayee.”

_“That’s better.”_

Johnny rolled his eyes, safe from Hoover’s prying eyes.

_“Now, John you must tell me all about your latest leads. I will not have that Southern cracker get away with mocking us, do you hear me?”_

“Yes, sir.” Johnny kept scribbling his signature on the endless papers.

_“It’s a bad thing, this flouting of the law. Pretty Boy Purvis makes a mockery of all that’s good and decent.”_

_That’s Mel, all right, a veneer of goodness and decency, but a saucy one beneath it all._

_“John? What do you say to that?”_

“Well, sir, I know that Mel…Melvin is an expert bank robber.”

_“Bah! Expert, my foot! Now, John, give me a rundown of what’s going on.”_

Johnny bit back a retort. How did Mel stand this, a disapproving father and a meddling boss?

_“And perhaps, if you’re **really** good, I’ll have you come to Washington and really show you my appreciation.”_

Johnny nearly slammed the phone down. He felt his skin crawl as Hoover cooed nonsense to him, doing his best to woo his favorite agent.

 _Mel had hinted at how Hoover was hot-to-trot for him, but I never realized that it was this bad. Oh, Mel, honey, why didn’t you tell me?_ Anger built up in him as Hoover continued making a shameless pass at the man he thought was his fine, upstanding agent. _What kind of world is this? I must be dreamin’. Mel, darlin’, wake me up!_

 _“You are the handsomest of all my fine young men of the right sort,”_ Hoover purred, turning Johnny’s stomach again. _“With you by my side, we can bring all the Public Enemies down.”_

“But, sir, what would Mr. Tolson say?”

_“What?_

“The Associate Director, sir. I thought he stood by your side.” _And has for years, you ungrateful wretch._

_“Ah, well, something would be worked out, dearest. I’m good at personnel issues.”_

_I’ll bet. Wonder how faithful ol’ Clyde would feel being considered a ‘personnel issue’?_

_“Now, tell me your leads.”_

Johnny hastily looked at the notes on Mel’s desk and bluffed his way through the rest of the phone call.

Finally, it was over. He tried to be as pleasant as possible, even with Hoover cooing in his ear, and hung up with a sigh of relief. 

“Director give you a tough time?” asked a handsome agent in the doorway. Johnny recognized him as one of the agents who had accompanied Mel to the Tucson jail for their first meeting. What had Mel said his name was? Oh, yeah, Carter Baum.

“You know how it is.” Johnny shrugged.

“Yes, I do.” Carter’s voice was sympathetic. “Ready for lunch?”

“It’s that time already?” Johnny checked his watch and saw that it was noon. He had not even had time to look and see what President had packed for him for a snack. His stomach rumbled.

“Yep. Want to go to _O’Reilly’s?”_

“Um, sure.”

“Good, my treat.”

“Carter, my man, that sounds even better!”

Carter laughed, and Johnny grabbed his coat and fedora, glad to get out of the office.


	3. Of Forms And Paper Clips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny learns more about Mel’s work.

  


  
_"Humdrum,_   
_My mind’s a’yawnin’,_   
_Bring me excitement,_   
_Lover boy."_   


  


**Ella Fitzhenry**   
**"Humdrum"**   
**Decca Records**   
**1932 C.E.**

 _O’Reilly’s_ was a classic diner of gleaming chrome and colorful booths. The Wurlitzer jukebox up against the wall glowed with neon brightness, jazz spilling out of its multicolored facade as pots and pans clanged in the kitchen. Nearly every booth and stool at the counter was filled, but Carter found an empty booth, he and Johnny sliding in. Johnny had expected an Irish pub with a name like this and was surprised.

He remembered Mel talking warmly about Carter, his second-in-command and confidante. Carter had a nice smile and his brown eyes were big and sparkling, his brown hair thick and a little unruly despite the pomade.

“We’re lucky to get a booth. This place is always packed.” Carter handed Johnny a plastic menu. “Not surprising, since the food’s so good and the prices are cheap.”

Johnny had to admit that the smells coming from the kitchen were mouth-watering. Mel said he appreciated food so much because of a lackluster prison diet. He really couldn’t argue with that. Prison food was usually starchy, gray and lumpy. He had eaten more to stave off hunger than to enjoy the food, which was far from enjoyable. 

A red-haired waitress took their orders, Carter selecting an egg salad sandwich with pickles and chips, and Johnny chose a turkey club with cheese, pickles, and onions, chips on the side. He ordered a Coke, too, Carter seconding that.

“Nice to get out of the office” Carter took a sip of icewater.

“I’ll agree with you there.”

Carter put down his glass. “Hoover’s getting bolder?”

Johnny looked at his companion sharply. He was trying to get the lay of the land in this bizarre world he had awakened in. How much did Carter know?

“He’s…aggressive. All about catchin’ the bad guys.”

Carter sorted. “That’s for sure.”

“He’s especially obsessed with Melvin Purvis.”

Their waitress brought their orders and Carter ate a potato chip. “He’s certain that Melvin Purvis is the biggest threat to the American way of life.” 

Johnny laughed. Somehow Mel as a desperado just didn’t quite fit.

Carter grinned, savoring his sandwich, which included bits of celery to sharpen the flavor. “Do we have any new leads?”

Johnny shook his head. “No.”

Carter ate part of his pickle spear. “Better be careful with your meeting tonight.”

“Meeting?”

Carter glanced around. “Yeah, you know.” His voice lowered. “With Public Enemy No. 1.”

A thrill went through Johnny. So he and Mel were on the same page even here? Excited, he asked, “Where and when?”

Carter looked at him in surprise. “You know.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been so, um, flustered after that call with Hoover, I’m all confused.”

“Oh.” Carter understood. “Boy, I can’t blame you for that.” He took a sip of Coke. “Six o’clock tonight at the safehouse.”

Johnny’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t ask Carter for the address on top of everything else. So much for that meeting.

“Oh, of course.”

“It’s genius, really, hiding out on North Halstead, just a few blocks from _The Chocolate Shoppe_ and the _Biograph.”_

Johnny’s heart soared. He knew that safehouse! Anna Sage’s boarding house was in the perfect place. Pleased, he took a bite of his sandwich, relishing the fresh flavors.

Tonight, he would see his Mel and figure this thing out.

& & & & & &

Unfortunately for Johnny, he still had an afternoon’s work ahead of him. Paperwork did not thrill him, but since he was not sure if he was dreaming or not, he had to make sure he played the part of good little Federal agent for Mel’s sake.

He was grateful that there were no further calls from either family or boss. He might be able to get out here this unscathed.

He sat back and stared at the wall. Why was he playing this part? He was in a dream and would wake up soon, right? He _really_ needed to see Mel.

The phone rang and he reluctantly picked up the handset. 

_“Director Hoover, sir.”_

Scowling, Johnny said, “Put him through.”

_“John, I need o get some figures from you on the office supplies for last month.”_

“Office supplies?” Johnny wondered if he had heard right. “Um, I’ll see what I can do.”

_“Excellent. Now, John, what about coming to Washington this weekend?”_

“Well, sir, I’m really busy here. I need to…” _Get away_ "…stay in town for the moment. Let me get those figures for you and I’ll send them on.”

Hoover sounded aggrieved. _“Very well.”_

“Good afternoon, sir.”

Johnny quickly hung up, running a hand through his hair. How did Mel deal with all these petty details?

Sighing, Johnny stretched and rose from his chair, heading out to the squadroom. On his way to Doris’ desk, he noticed the white-haired man sitting at one of the desks. He had to be Charles Winstead from the description Mel that had given him. The man moved like a panther, Charles getting up and walking toward Carter’s desk. He glanced at Johnny, who felt a chill at the sight of the steel-blue eyes. They were the eyes of a hunter, relentless and ruthless.

_Better keep my eyes open for this guy when I get back. He’s a dangerous one._

“Can I help you, Mr. Dillinger?” Doris asked.

“Um, yes, Doris. Director Hoover wants to get figures on last month’s office supplies.”

“Oh, then you should go see Sam in the file room.”

“Thanks.”

There were two corridors that branched off from the squadroom. Johnny hoped that he picked the right one as he started walking down one of the halls.

His luck held. Down at the end of the hall was a door marked _File Room_. He knocked and Sam called, “Come in!”

Johnny saw a handsome, square-jawed brunette sitting at a desk, the room crammed with steel file cabinets. He had an open file folder on the desk. 

“Hi, Johnny. How can I help you?”

“Hoover wants figures on last month’s office supplies.”

“Anything specific?”

“No.”

Sam rose and opened a cabinet, pulling out a manila folder.

“Shouldn’t Doris have these figures? Doesn’t she order the supplies?”

“She does, but all statistics must be filed here.” Sam smiled. “Strict policy.”

“Hmm, seems kinda restrictive to me.”

“That’s our Director.”

Johnny smirked. He took the folder and said, “Thanks, Sam.”

“You’re welcome.” Sam sat down at his desk. “That’s an awful lot of data. He should really narrow it down.”

“Well, you know our Director.”

Sam grinned. “Yes.”

Johnny left with a wink, checking his watch. It was almost quitting time.

He disliked too much structure except when it came to bank robbery. Nine years in prison had just whetted his appetite for the freewheeling instead. In prison, the routine was stultifying and endless. One day was just like the next. Sometimes when you woke up, you forgot what day it was.

_But is office routine just as bad, day after day? Though this place isn’t like most offices. My boys and I keep the G-Men hoppin’._

Johnny smirked as he approached Doris’ desk. “Doris, would you call Washington and pass on these figures, please?”

“Certainly, Mr. Dillinger.”

Johnny returned to his office. He grabbed his coat and fedora. He did not want to be around if Hoover wanted to talk to him about paper clips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said to Doris as he breezed out, looking like he was following a hot tip but eager to get to North Halstead.

_Time to meet my gangster lover._


	4. Not Quite Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny finally sees his Mel…or does he?

_"We are the sum of our pasts, and one slight change can make all the difference."_

  


**Roy Bradberry**   
**"Doppelganger"**   
**1930 C.E.**

Johnny drove his (or Mel’s) Pierce Arrow to North Halstead, parking several blocks away from Anna Sage’s boarding house. It would not do to have his car parked right in front of the place. 

He went into the nearby hat store, the glittering lights of the _Biograph Theater_ outshining the rest of the lights as darkness began to fall.

He kept an eye on the time, heading for Anna’s place at a quarter to six. His heart pounded as he approached the modest boarding house.

Wind gusted down the street, Jack O’Lanterns glowing in the windows of the houses he passed. Paper Witches and ghosts hung from porch ceilings and pillars and adorned doors. There was no one around the boarding house as he arrived. The front door was flanked by two large pumpkins, a glowing Jack O’Lantern grinning in the front window. He slipped behind the house and knocked on the back door, the door opening.

Johnny quietly went inside, going through the kitchen. He stepped into the living room.

The lights were dim, and jazz played at low volume from the Philco radio. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by the Jack O’Lantern’s candle. But it was the man sitting in a comfortable chair that immediately attracted his attention.

His beloved Mel was wearing a white shirt open at the neck, black pants and suspenders, and soft black velour slippers. Gold cufflinks winked in the candlelight. His raven hair was slicked back, and his dark-brown eyes glittered as a smirk curved his beautiful lips. He was devastatingly sexy.

It was a bit unsettling.

“Mel?”

Mel’s smile was genuine. “Hello, darlin’.”

Johnny crossed the room as Mel rose to his feet, the two embracing and kissing passionately. He smelled and tasted like Mel, so whatever was happening, it was still his Southern honey.

“Oh, baby, I really needed to see you.” As Johnny nuzzled Mel’s neck, Mel breathily answered, “Me, too, sugar, me, too.”

When they parted, Johnny drank in the sight of his lover, who looked so incredibly sexy that he took Johnny’s breath away.

“Mel, I…you look amazing.”

Mel smiled lazily. “I can say the same.” His eyes glittered as his gaze raked over Johnny’s lean form. “It’s been too long.”

“Oh, I agree.” 

Johnny wanted Mel so much. He could smell his subtle cologne, and his hugged him again, his body molded to his lover’s. He felt safe here. Mel was his anchor.

Mel gently eased away and sat down again as Johnny took the couch. Mel’s face looked even more beautiful in the shadows, and Johnny shivered.

“Cold, darlin’?”

“Could be.” Johnny didn’t understand his uneasiness, unless it was because of this bizarre situation. “Mel, everything’s all…topsy-turvy.”

“Oh?”

“I feel like I’m in a dream.”

White teeth gleamed. “I’m glad that I’m a dream, not a nightmare.”

“Mel, I’m living in a world that isn’t right.”

Soft Southern tones chuckled. “Aren’t we all?”

Johnny studied his lover. Mel was still the man with the smooth accent that could send shivers of delight down his spine, but his mannerisms were not the endearingly nervous ones of his Mel. This man was supremely sure of himself, reminding him of himself. This man was a gangster, ruthless and with his own code of honor, different from ‘his’ Mel. He wasn’t quite ‘right’.

His heart suddenly ached. He missed his Sunshine.

“I mean…when I went to bed last night, I was the bank robber and you were the Fed.”

The liquid-dark eyes widened slightly. “Did you get hold of some bad bathtub gin?”

“Maybe.” Johnny smirked. “The Syndicate likes to get rid of its old stuff.”

Mel chuckled. “Yeah.” He leaned back, his face almost entirely in shadow. “That’s quite a dream.”

“It’s not a dream.” Johnny shook his head. “It’s real, Sun…um, Mel.”

“Really?”

The candlelight flickered over the walls, the Jack O’Lantern’s reflection grinning evilly in the window. 

“There’s something very wrong here. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m in a different world. I’m not a Fed, _you_ are. I’m the guy who spent nine years in prison for knocking over a grocery store for fifty bucks, not you.”

“Tonight’s Halloween.”

“It is?” Johnny frowned. “Went I went to bed, it was still a couple of weeks away.”

“Well, you _did_ say everything was all topsy-turvy, right?”

Johnny shivered again as a gust of wind rattled the windowpanes, the light from the Jack O’Lantern flickering wildly. The shadows seemed to consume Mel, swallowing him up.

"Mel? _Mel!”_

The darkness descended, and Johnny felt himself suffocating. All sights and sounds were blocked out as he screamed soundlessly…

& & & & & &

“Johnny! _Johnny!”_

Johnny swam up from the darkness, the blood thrumming in his ears. He struggled against a strong grip, suddenly registering the voice that was imploring him to wake up.

He opened his eyes. “Mel!” he gasped.

His sweet, gentle Mel was gripping his shoulders, worry in his beautiful eyes. “Johnny, honey, you all right?”

Johnny saw the expensive white shirt and red suspenders, his lover’s face far more familiar than his gangster double’s.

_Some face but not quite. The other Mel…he’d been hardened somehow, probably prison, maybe a hard life before it._

He shook with relief, his own hands gripping Mel’s arms. He could see the room of the safehouse he had fallen asleep in the night before his bizarre experience, ready to wax rhapsodic over maplewood furniture and blue-painted walls.

“I’m home,” he breathed.

Mel blushed prettily. “That’s quite a compliment, thank you.”

Johnny laughed delightedly and pulled Mel into an embrace.

“Don’t change, Sunshine, don’t ever change.”

& & & & & &

_“Even a man of supreme self-confidence can learn something by walking a mile in another man’s shoes, which is what John Dillinger did when he lived the life of his lover, Melvin Purvis, and saw what the reverse did for Mel, courtesy of…the **Twilight Zone.”**_


End file.
